


Firework and Needlework

by thejourneymaninn



Series: Domestic shenanigans [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And More Fluff, Cuddling, Domestic, Fluff, Food, M/M, Mentions of Blood, New Year's Eve, Proposals, all brief and nothing graphic, brief mentions of smut, but just to be sure, mentions of illness, mentions of needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9827858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejourneymaninn/pseuds/thejourneymaninn
Summary: Newly engaged, Anders and Fenris spend a quiet New Year's Eve at home.Part of Domestic Shenanigans and sequel to 'For what is still to come',  but like all fics belonging to this series, it can be read as a stand-alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [I_hate_mages_No_you_dont](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont/gifts).



> kittenmage of I_hate_mages_No_you_don’t asked for a New Year’s Eve sequel to ‘For what is still to come, and I can never resist a prompt, so…

Anders was…well, a more (as in: excessively so) generous soul might have called it “singing”, but Fenris couldn’t, not for all the love he felt for the man – and there was a lot of love, he thought with a smile as he watched his off-key fool wriggling his hips and bellowing at the top of his lungs. It was a miracle Anders hadn’t (yet) dropped any of the food he was currently carrying into the living room. His contribution, as he had announced when he had returned from work, with dark-circled eyes, caffeine breath, and the stubborn resolve to have an enjoyable evening regardless, “You prepared dinner, I’ll set the table. Fair’s fair.”

Fenris had indeed been in charge of the night’s culinary aspects, since Anders had, once again, been needed at work all day. Admittedly, the opulent meal Fenris had prepared consisted pretty much entirely of bowls filled with snacks that came ready-to-serve in bags and boxes, with a select few that required the additional effort of defrosting or microwaving. A well-balanced mix of sweet and savoury, salt, sugar and flavour enhancers. Fenris had no intention of wasting even a second of their time together on cutlery and tables. With Anders work hours having been hell all month, they had decided to have a quiet (or as Anders had called it, going almost cross-eyed trying to examine the loose strands of hair falling into his face for new signs of grey, “an old men’s”) New Year’s Eve.

A night of cuddling, unhealthy amounts of food, Netflix - and, most importantly, just the two of them. There had been way too little of that lately. Of course, the announcement that they weren’t going to attend their traditional end-of-the-year party and its famous “The last straw” drinking contest had been met with loud protests, but eventually, their friends had relented and agreed to meet them on New Year’s Day instead, for a “Fools rush in” brunch in the Hanged Man. As Hawke had put it, “What better way to start a New Year than with a nice little food poisoning?”

Thus, they had secured themselves a night of peace and togetherness. Fenris was very much looking forward to snuggling up on the couch with a bowl of snacks between them and not a single vitamin in sight, and he was fairly certain Anders felt the same way. Having the rest of the week off seemed to have taken a whole world of tension off his shoulders; after months of long hours and little to no sleep, he finally looked relaxed again.

Relaxed enough to shimmy through their house and torture Fenris’ sensitive ears with…well, whatever this was.

With a fond shake of his head, he sneaked up on Anders, wrapped his arms around his waist – causing him to nearly drop a bowl of bugles – and murmured, playfully nipping on his neck, ”What is this cacophony?”

Anders stopped singing (although he kept wiggling his ass in a rather enticing manner) to cast a haughty glance over his shoulder. "That, you ignorant philistine, is Katy Perry’s ‘Firework’."

"I am aware of that,” Fenris huffed around another teasing little bite, “but what _you_ are doing to it can hardly be called ‘singing’.”

“Well, good, I'm close to the original then.”

Fenris couldn’t really argue with that.

“Besides”, Anders added, disentangling himself from Fenris’ arms, placing the bowl safely on the coffee table and turning to look at him with a broad grin, "We’re engaged now, so you’re required by law to put up with my singing. I'm sorry, love, those are the rules. In sickness and in health, through atonality and dad jokes."

Pausing a moment for emphasis, Fenris raised his eyebrows and waggled a finger in front of Anders’ face. He didn’t quite manage to suppress a grin as he said, “I do recall your…unique proposal, but – and please correct me if I am mistaken – as far as I can see, _this_ is still bare?”

“Well, if you want something to adorn that lovely hand of yours…” Anders picked up a bugle and stuck it on top of Fenris’ ring finger. “Here you go. Looks dashing - and it’s so practical, too! Don’t say I don’t provide for you, an emergency ration _and_ a weapon. You know, like some sort of spiky gauntlet.”

“Gauntlet. Of course. That sounds _practical_.”

Instead of replying, Anders bent and pulled the bugle off Fenris’ finger - with his teeth. He followed the motion up with his tongue slowly circling around the tip, licking up every last bit of salt and grease while he made a show of flicking and swirling it in languid, suggestive movements.

Fenris’ inner voice had quite a few things to say to that.

_I could bend him over the back of the sofa, tear off his trousers, spread him, lick along..._

He kept his actual voice even. “Our promise of eternal love, devoured in an instant. So much for ‘providing’. Perhaps you could at least manage to keep me warm?”

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of _something_ …”

“Perfect. I left my sweater in the bedroom.”

Anders’ smug grin gave way to a pout. With a dramatic sigh, “Alright, but only because it’s you,” he pressed a final kiss on Fenris finger, darted out of the room and stomped up the stairs in his usual manner, a noisy giraffe with poor coordination.

Fenris followed him, on quiet feet - quiet enough so that Anders did not notice he was right behind him until he came to a sudden halt in the doorway.

“Anything the matter?” Fenris innocently addressed his back.

He turned around, his expression somewhere between shock, awe, and amusement.

“Did...did you seriously stick a hundred syringes into our mattress?”

“The evidence points to it.”

Anders’ eyes gleamed as he chuckled, blushing and radiant. “Fenris....my god Fenris...you are just....Where did you even get that many syringes? Did you raid a drugstore? Or a drug _den_?”

“Merrill helped me out.”

“Ah, of course,” he nodded, “that makes sense. She’s good with bloodwork.”

“I figured she would be, given her field of study.”

“Yes… I don’t know how she does it. What they have to put their patients through, often not even to save them but just for a few more months…It must feel like making a deal with a demon. I mean, not that I never see suffering, but all in all, I get to help people…She mostly sees death…” Anders sighed, shaking his head slightly, then suddenly whipping it back towards Fenris. “Wait...what did you tell her they were for?”

“I said it was for you, and that it was a surprise. Which caused her to smile and exclaim that you love surprises. Then she got me the syringes and I left. Unlike others, she does not ask when she knows she will not get an answer. You have to give her that, even if her general level of excitement is disturbing.”

“So, she doesn’t…know about this?”

Feeling Anders flicker like a dying lightbulb of anxiousness, Fenris took his hand in his and squeezed it. “Of course not. We agreed to tell the others together. But what is more important…” he continued, suddenly nervous despite himself, “Do you have anything to say to the shape I arranged them in?”

A bright, warm smile spread over Anders’ face and, if Fenris was not mistaken, there was a little moisture around the corners of his eyes. “Yes, I will marry you.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

“Comes as a surprise, I’m sure. This is just amazing, love…” Anders said, taking a step closer to the bed, “Not for our mattress, mind you, but...you went through all this trouble…And there's,” he exclaimed suddenly, “even a ring!”

There was indeed. Fenris had made certain to tape it to one of the syringes somewhere near the centre of the whole thing.

“There is. I hope you like it.”

“Are you kidding?” Anders’ face scrunched up as he turned the ring over in his fingers. “I love it. It’s from _you_ ; I'd love it even if it wasn't gorgeous, which it totally is, by the way…You've really thought of everything, haven't you?” he said with a faraway look in his eyes. “You even set up candles…flowers...”

“Of course. You mentioned there should have been ten percent more of them. Considering you had none, I am not certain as to the exact amount required; so this will have to do.”

“Yes, yes, I admit this beats my proposal on every level, no argument there,” Anders said, not seeming to mind his defeat all that much.

“Now, don’t be so modest. Only a select few are capable of finding the romantic aspects of telling their friends to exert violence on their lover. Although,” he added with a smirk, “I _did_ also fill the freezer with ice cream, for you…Or for me, had you decided to ditch me after all.”

“Not a chance, love.” Anders wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him flush against him. “You already said yes to me when I proposed on Christmas; you’re not getting out of this. I'm yours until the end. And now,” he smiled, “get that ring on my finger already.”

With a soft chuckle, Fenris did just that, pressing a kiss on Anders’ lips as he slid the ring on...or rather, as he struggled to push it into position; the movement wasn't quite as smooth as he would have wished and had Anders wincing a little.

“Ouch...Is that your revenge for my asking people to punch you?”

Fenris grinned up at him through his lashes. “If I wanted to take revenge, I would have found another way to use those syringes…”

“Well, well, well…I must say, I'm not sure whether to be appalled or aroused. And here I was thinking I already knew all your deep, dark, desires......” Anders stuck his tongue out at him.

“In that case, better prepare yourself,” Fenris said, grabbing his face in a flash and returning his tongue back into his mouth with company. “You have merely begun to scratch the surface. And you’ve bound yourself to me. With,” he flashed him a smug grin, “the ring _I_ remembered to get you.”

“Speaking of which…” Anders pulled back and walked over to their closet, kneeling on the floor and rummaging through the jumbled heap at the bottom until he found the horribly shiny dress shoes Fenris adamantly refused to wear. “I thought this was the last place you'd look,” he explained as he reached inside and pulled out a small velvet box. His knees gave a protesting creek as he got up and walked back over to Fenris with hesitant steps. "I wasn't sure if you wanted a ring, and you definitely don't have to wear it if you don't but...I got you this one just in case. I went with ironbark. I know elven traditions also aren't quite your thing, but it's pretty and rare and, you know...it reminds me of indomitable strength in places where you wouldn't expect it, so I thought you might like it, and if you don't..."

Fenris chose this moment to silence him with a kiss, mimicking Anders' tone exactly as he said, "Just put it on me already."

“So...you want to wear it?”

His heart ached at the sight of Anders’ uncertain, hopeful smile.

“What makes you think I would not? It is not a chain. It is a sign of belonging. And I belong with you.”

There was no uncertainty in the nod that followed. “You do. And I hope you’re aware that tonight, this means you belong _on the couch_ with me. I need to take at least fifty pictures of this,” Anders gestured to the bed, “now, and another hundred tomorrow morning, by daylight. Everyone needs to see it! All our future cats need to see it - _Pounce_ needs to see it!”

“I assure you, he has seen it. And sniffed it. He also licked it, kicked it, vomited on it, knocked over a few candles and nearly set his tail on fire, chewed on your flowers…”

“We…should probably keep the door closed for the night…”

“I knew I wasn’t marrying you solely for your looks. Now, take your pictures, and then let us go back downstairs. I can think of a few enjoyable things to do on that couch you mentioned...”

Anders flashed him a broad grin. “You mean cocoon ourselves in each other’s arms and fifteen blankets, eat until we’re incapable of getting up and fall asleep long before midnight?”

“You forgot ‘incessantly complain about films no one is forcing us to watch’.”

“Well, the list wasn’t meant to be exhaustive…there’s of course also drink too much, whinge about my job, fuck your brains out, argue over what to watch next, have an ice cream eating contest, read Pounce a bedtime story…”

“…You have two minutes before I snuff out the candles and drag you out of the room.”

 

 

The following morning, they entered the Hanged Man, smiling and casually holding hands. They exchanged a brief smirk as they sat down next to their smelly, hungover friends, then slipped back into their nonchalant expressions. There was a bet to be settled – which of their friends would be the first to notice the rings, and how long would it take them?

**Author's Note:**

> kittenmage ALSO asked for sexy bugle eating, so here you go dear, two prompts in one.


End file.
